Nothing Wrong With Socks
by InsaneBeyondMeasure
Summary: Hermione is frustrated, and when Blaise makes an innocent comment she takes it a bit too seriously. I think I spelled Hermione wrong in this all the time, sorry about that.


A/N: It's midnight the night before a big fencing competition. So what, I fence! So I'm very anxious, I'm going to channel my anxiety through fan fiction! does happy dance

This is before the war, but post HBP.

Disclaimer: So, I own no Harry Potter or Fencing liberties. Absolute Fencing is an actual place, and I don't own it either. cries tears

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Hermionie gave a loud, heavy sigh as she picked up her helmet from the table. She had ten minutes before she had to be in muggle London. Her epee was in her hand and she felt… confidant.

She had needed this. It was something that being Head Girl gave her. Thanks to McGonagall, she was able to relieve at least some of her stress once a month. One day a month to get onto the strip, fully dressed, and fence her heart out.

She wasn't very good. She had never had formal fencing lessons, but had enjoyed watching the sport as a child. She was too young to join a club before Hogwarts, and after the letter came it completely changed her life. She no longer had time for fencing. But it was a brutal sport, and it was exactly what she needed after a month of Head Girl duties, studying her brains out, and _Him_.

By _Him_ she meant the Head Boy. The annoying, proud, quiet, arrogant, sexy Head Boy. In truth she wasn't all that upset with him. He was all she ever needed. It was just the stupid war that would not let them be together. He probably wouldn't have either, but Hermionie Granger did not feel like dwelling on that.

All she knew for sure was that Blaise Zabini was the most difficult person on earth, and that she was going to prove it to herself by beating the living piss out of every other fencer in that tournament today.

There was a loud knock on the door, which roused Hermionie from her thoughts. She looked at the clock, halted for a fraction of a second, and then ran into the common room. In fact, she ran into something big that was blocking her way _out_ of the common room.

She looked up. She didn't have to really. There was only one choice as to whose chest she was leaning against, whose hot breath trickled down the back of her neck and sent tingles down her spine in rivulets. It could only be one person.

Blaise Zabini himself. He arched an eyebrow at her appearance, but said nothing. Hermionie slowly backed herself away from him. She saw his eyes appraising her, running up and down the length of her body. He shrugged.

"Er…hello, Blaise. How are you today?" Hermionie managed, aware of just how stupid she sounded.

"I'm going fencing today. You know how McGonagall gives me a day away once a month? I asked her for that so I could do this…"She gestured to her fencing outfit.

He still stood there, not saying a word, though his eyebrow did quirk at the word 'fencing'.

"So, I suppose I should be going now. I'll see you later, then, shall I? Er…right. See you, then." She tried to run out the door again.

Blaise caught her arm. She twirled around to face him. "Yes?" She asked, inquisitively.

He only brought her hand to his face, and, without having his eyes ever leave hers, he brushed his lips across her knuckles once.

He let go. Hermionie's hand dropped to her side once again. She shot Blaise a confused look, before turning once again to the door.

"Nice socks, Granger." She felt her face go red.

---

There really was nothing wrong with them, she decided, after once again letting her mind wander. It was not simply the fact that her mind was wandering, but the fact that it was wandering towards a universe where Blaise was fully accessible. The only problem was, in this universe, Blaise kept on repeating the last words she had heard from him, and nothing else.

"Nice socks, Granger." Over and over again in that deep rich, wonderful baritone that only Blaise managed to perfect. Her socks were not bad. They were standard fencing socks. Bloody hell, they had even been shipped in from New Jersey in the United States, and he was insulting them?

They were white; that was to be expected. They went just past her knees, and, together with her breeches, covered every inch of skin on her legs. The only thing that Blaise could have anything to insinuate against is the logo.

There was a large, Absolute Fencing logo just above the ankle. But the company would want to advertise; there was nothing wrong with that!

It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that she could out-fence everyone here just to prove that fencing was a real sport. It was a gentleman's sport. She had thought that, if Blaise ever found out, he could at least appreciate that. He was something of a gentleman himself.

'_Best not to dwell on Blaise Zabini,'_ said the little voice inside her head. For once, she listened to it.

---

"Congratulations, Granger." Was not the greeting that was expected, but Hermionie accepted it all the same. Well, more like 'Turned-into-a-limp,-useless,-tactless,-speechless-lump-of –water-and-flesh-that-is-a-human-being', but that was beside the point.

"How did you…?" the stammering was incredible. If you were only listening to the voice, you wouldn't know it was Hermionie Granger.

"I have ears, Granger, and I sometimes do use them, unlike a certain Pothead and Weasel. I'll never know what you see in them."

"Harry and Ron are both perfectly normal- or would be, if they hadn't been forced into the lives of two extraordinary people."

"How very Gryffindor of you, Granger." Replied Blaise, shortly.

"Well actually I was about to admit you were right, and that sometimes, I make major mistakes in Artithmancy, but now I don't think I will."

"How very Slytherin of you, Granger."

"It must come from being trapped in the same dorm as you."

Blaise just smirked. Hermionie started huffily towards her room, carrying all her fencing stuff with her, when she abruptly turned back to Blaise, and said, in a clear, loud voice:

"And there's nothing wrong with my socks, Zabini."

Then she marched into her room with an air of haughtiness.

It was only then she realized that she had won the tournament. And winning the tournament meant she was in love with Blaise Zabini. The scream heard through the Head Dorms was unbelievable.

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A/N: Still only my second fic, and the end probably got messier, because it's now 1:14 in the morning and I'm half asleep, but I'm glad I got it all up. Let me know what you think, please!!!


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